


what's gonna be left of the world (if you're not in it)?

by bestthreemonths



Category: Her Name in the Sky - Kelly Quindlen
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8204090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestthreemonths/pseuds/bestthreemonths
Summary: Baker loves fires, but she's never ready for when they go out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first time writing anything outside of my usual comfort zone, and it was so fun (and heartbreaking at times)... Please forgive me for the angst :)

_ i. burning bright right till the end _

 

Baker’s always loved fire. Between the warmth and the glow and the way the world feels when she’s sitting in front of it, she hasn’t found many greater—or simpler—pleasures in life. Louisiana doesn’t get particularly cold in winter, so even the people who have fireplaces don’t get much use out of them, but Baker insists on lighting their fireplace every single day as soon as December 1 rolls around, no matter how much her brother complains of sweat.

 

She almost felt betrayed the first time she got burnt by a bonfire on the beach when she was in middle school. Her dad was making shadow puppets against a sheet her brother was holding up and doing everything in his power to make Baker laugh. It worked, but at the expense of her hair, which caught flame when she threw her head back laughing, and her collarbone, which got burned when her burning hair whipped across her chest . She had shrieked, and her brother’s solution was to throw water on her, so she ended up drenched and pouting, wrapped in the sheet to stop her shivering for the rest of the night.

 

“That’s the thing about fire, Bake,” her mom had warned as she soothed her and assured her that her hair looked fine, but if she wanted they could go to a salon the next day. “I know you love it, but it can be dangerous.”

 

She still has a mark on her collarbone from that burn, but she only remembers where it is because of the time Hannah’s lips have spent on that exact spot, kissing softly or sucking roughly before soothing it with her tongue. Her fingers brush it absentmindedly, and the corners of her lips turn up into a smile before she remembers where she is, who she’s with, what she’s avoiding hearing right now.

 

“Baker?” Hannah asks sharply. “Are you even listening to me?”

 

Baker whips her head up to look at Hannah, who’s sitting in the driver’s seat of her car. It’s still running as they sit in Baker’s driveway, fresh off what was supposed to be a romantic dinner date on their first night home for Thanksgiving break.

 

They’re in the home stretch now after three years and a handful of months of painful, heart-wrenching long distance, but it doesn’t feel like it’s almost over. If anything, normalcy feels further away than ever.

 

Part of Baker knew this break would be different than the rest. For one, she was almost dreading it. She tried to be excited, doing her usual countdown by finding numbers and snapping photos to send to Hannah. At 11 days to go, she found two sticks while studying outside and laid them side by side. Hannah’s response was a thumbs up emoji. At 5 days, she traced her hand and made a turkey out of it, just like she did in elementary school. “Lol,” came the reply from Hannah.

 

By yesterday, Baker had given up on building excitement, simply texting Hannah “see you tomorrow!” with the heart eyes emoji. At least she had gotten a somewhat decent response to that, a “can’t wait!” from Hannah, lacking the abundance of exclamations and emojis Baker has come to expect.

 

“Yeah, Han,” Baker replies softly. “Of course.”

 

She hadn’t been listening. She started tuning her out as soon as Hannah suggested they “talk.”

 

“Haven’t we been talking all night?” Baker had joked, as if making Hannah smile would change her mind. “Can’t we just make out?”

 

They hadn’t been talking, not really. They’d been saying words, making polite conversation, going through the motions, but they haven’t really talked in weeks. Hannah’s constantly in the library, studying and working on her thesis and doing homework, and Baker isn’t allowed to complain when she feels neglected because “it doesn’t come as easily to all of us as it does to you, Baker.”

 

“Can we like, go inside?” Baker asks, unbuckling her seatbelt.

 

“No,” Hannah sighs, exasperated. That’s a first. Baker’s house is one of Hannah’s favorite places in the world, especially when they’re wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire or tangled in sheets upstairs. Anywhere she’s close to Baker is Hannah’s favorite place. “Do you even hear what I’m saying?”

 

“Yes, you’re busy and stressed and I need to be a more understanding girlfriend,” Baker says. She wraps her arms around Hannah’s shoulders and places a dramatic kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Hannah-bear. I’ll be whatever kind of girlfriend you need me to be.”

 

Hannah runs a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath and looking straight ahead before turning back to Baker. “That’s not what I need, though,” she says. “I can’t be a good girlfriend right now. There’s too much on the line for me, and it’s not fair to you.”

 

“I get it, Han,” Baker promises, covering Hannah’s hand with her own.

 

Hannah pulls away. “You don’t. I can’t be a good girlfriend, so I can’t be your girlfriend.”

 

Baker freezes. She knew when she heard Hannah’s voice on the phone this morning suggesting they go out for dinner and catch up that it wouldn’t be a fun conversation. They haven’t been the same for a while, but Baker thought—no, she knew—being together would make things right. Physical proximity is underrated when you don’t have to worry about the next time you’ll see the person you love.

 

“Can you say something?” Hannah whispers, trying to meet the brunette’s eyes, which are fixated on the front porch light of her house.

 

“Are you crazy?” Baker asks finally, turning her eyes to meet Hannah’s gaze. She laughs. “Han, this isn’t one of your better jokes.”

 

Hannah closes her eyes, taking yet another deep breath. “I wish I were joking, Bake,” she says softly. “But I can’t—”

 

“You can’t what?” Baker exclaims. “Take five minutes out of your fucking day to say goodnight to me? You can’t love me because it’s too much of a distraction from your thesis?”

 

“This is what I’m talking about!” Hannah insists. “You aren’t happy. You haven’t been happy in a long time, and I know that’s my fault.”

 

“How about you let me decide if I’m happy?”

 

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Hannah says, her eyes filling with tears. “You deserve to be happy. I can’t make you happy, not like this.”

 

“I can take it,” Baker says, her voice catching in his throat. “Life isn’t always going to be sunshine and rainbows, I’m not so naive that I don’t know that. It’s been three years, we’ve had hard times.”

 

“Not like this!”

 

“No, but we’ve gotten through things we’ve never had to deal with before,” Baker says, her voice quickening. “Like jealousy and miscommunication and that time I accidentally left a hickey on your jaw before you had a class presentation when I was there for fall break.”

 

Hannah smirks. “It wasn’t an accident.”

 

“It was!” Baker laughs, hitting Hannah playfully. “See? This is us.”

 

“It was us,” Hannah says immediately, not taking the bait. “And it can be us someday. I have faith in us, Bake.”

 

“Just not right now?” Baker asks, willing the tears in her eyes not to fall.

 

“Not for a little while,” Hannah says. “Till this is over.”

 

All the work she’s done to stop herself from crying is all for naught when her voice betrays her, shaking as she chokes out the next words. “Are you really breaking up with me?”

 

“It’s just… a break.”

 

“We both saw Friends!” Baker exclaims, bursting into tears. “I know what that means.”

 

“I’m not going to sleep with someone else,” Hannah says. “I barely have time to look at other girls.”

 

“That’s nice, Han,” Baker scoffs. “That’s definitely what I wanted to hear when getting dumped.”

 

“I’m not—” Hannah tries, but she’s cut off by the door slamming as her girlfriend—ex-girlfriend?—takes off running toward the front door.

 

Baker bypasses her family in the living room, fire blazing even earlier in the year than usual in honor of her brief visit, and runs straight to her room, ignoring her mother’s calls to ask if she and Hannah had a nice night.

 

As she lies facedown in her bed, face buried in her pillow, she can’t help but be transported back to Hannah’s birthday this year, when Baker arranged a surprise camping trip without checking the weather. She’d brought hot dogs and s’mores and even stretched-out wire hangers to roast them on. She’d managed to hide a pop-up tent and pillows and blankets in her trunk and convince Hannah to pack a small duffel bag and go with the flow, a task impossible as any.

 

The only thing she hadn’t accounted for was how hard it would be to start a fire after it had rained earlier that day. Hannah kept her calm, kept her laughing till finally they lit the fire and cooked their hot dogs.

 

As soon as Baker was sufficiently relaxed and their bellies sufficiently full, Hannah wrapped an arm around her well-intentioned girlfriend and pressed a kiss to her temple, murmuring her thanks for all the effort she’d put into making Hannah’s day special.

 

When Hannah’s lips met Baker’s skin, so did a drop of rain. And then another. And in a matter of seconds, the skies opened up, their fire was ruined, and they were huddled together in their tent, drenched to the bone.

 

Baker’s lip had quivered, but Hannah knew that face too well to let anything come of it, so she kissed her firmly, holding Baker’s face in her hands.

 

“We worked so hard,” Baker had whimpered, referring again to the fire.

 

“And it was beautiful,” Hannah promised. “It served its purpose. We didn't have to eat raw hot dogs, so I'd consider it a success.”

 

Baker didn't see it that way—after all, there were still marshmallows to be roasted, but Hannah has a way of making things okay even when they really aren't. 

 

As Baker shivers in her bed like she had in that tent, she tries not to think of the way she’d always silently compared the feeling of being with Hannah to the feeling sitting in front of a fire—safe, warm, hopeful.

 

She tries not to think about it as the sobs rack her body, but just before her tears get the best of her and lull her into a restless sleep, she realizes there's one major difference: with fires, she always had a slight tug of melancholy knowing that at some point, inevitably, they'd come to an end. She never felt that way about Hannah. She’d never had any reason to.

 

_ ii. missing from the photographs _

 

The crying fits come less often as Baker drowns her sorrow in mashed potatoes and gravy, but as soon as she walks into her room in her apartment at school and sees the walls covered with photos of her and Hannah clipped with clothespins hanging from twine, she breaks down all over again.

 

She wants to tear them down angrily and throw them out, but when she finally stops crying, she takes them down one by one, placing them gently in her second desk drawer, the one she never opens, so she isn’t in danger of coming across them when she isn’t prepared.

 

She runs her thumb across a personal favorite, one from her sorority’s spring formal last year. No matter what's going on with Hannah, she always makes it to Baker’s formal. After the fiasco that was their senior prom, Hannah always says she would never miss another opportunity to get all dressed up and show off Baker as her date.

 

In the photograph, Baker’s dark brown hair hangs straight down her back, and Hannah’s blonde locks fall in curls that frame her face beautifully. They’re laughing at something Baker said or a face Hannah made—she can’t remember now—and Baker is tucking a piece of hair behind Hannah’s ear, her thumb stroking Hannah’s cheekbone.

 

Baker can’t imagine attending a formal without Hannah, and she certainly can’t imagine going with anyone else. Or alone. She has friends, roommates, sorority sisters who have been amazing for the hard parts of long distance, but she has no idea who to turn to about this. She’s  _ Baker _ . Carefree, witty, “let’s go take a study break to get fro-yo” Baker. She doesn’t cry uncontrollably or lose her appetite or stay in bed for 24 hours straight and miss her first day back to class after a holiday.

 

But when she stares at the ceiling, stomach growling as the afternoon sun shines through her closed blinds to warm her tear-streaked cheeks, she realizes the Baker she’s been since having Hannah in her life might not be the real Baker. Maybe she’s secretly sad and scared and unsure, all the things she was before Hannah. 

 

She wonders how Hannah is doing, even though she knows she shouldn’t. Hannah probably doesn’t even have time to miss her, too wrapped up in her studies and her Emory friends. Hannah’s the best person Baker knows, but she’s never had to be the peppy, perfect one. That was always Baker’s job. She knows Hannah loves her, at least according to the text from Hannah the night they broke up saying “I love you, Bake. All that matters to me is that you know that,” but she doesn’t know if she can believe it anymore.

 

_ iii. sleeping in the clothes you love _

 

Baker quietly removes the relationship status portion of her Facebook profile, hoping nobody will notice, but people are more attuned than she realizes, and her world is smaller sometimes than she’d like, so she doesn’t have to say the words out loud—she can barely think them—before her roommates and sorority sisters know to be extra attentive and caring.

 

The first day Baker gets up to go to class, her roommates are in the kitchen playing music and making breakfast. The smile that graces her face at the smell of bacon feels unfamiliar, but the longer it stays there, the more she feels it belongs. Before long, she’s joking and laughing as she shovels eggs into her mouth, and maybe once she washes her hair she’ll feel like a human being again.

 

When the opening strains of an old faithful country song play through the speakers, one that brings back memories of swaying with Hannah in the kitchen and long mornings spent in bed tracing the freckles on Hannah’s arms, she remembers her new normal and excuses herself to shower, where the running water drowns out her sobs.

 

There’s no time to be sad, not with finals fast approaching, so Baker sucks it up. In public, she puts on a happy face. When she runs into Clay on campus after avoiding his calls and texts for a week, she hugs him and shrugs when he asks how she’s holding up.

 

“Could be worse,” she says, without finishing the complete thought, which is “…though I’m not sure how.”

 

Joanie is the one who breaks her, when they run into each other in line at the Starbucks in the library. Baker sees her first, but by the time she can plan her escape, Joanie spots her.

 

“Hey,” Joanie breathes, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. “Listen—”

 

“Don’t,” Baker says. “I have a paper to write. I can’t cry.”

 

Joanie nods quickly. “We’re good though. Right?”

 

“Definitely,” Baker agrees, looking anywhere but at Joanie’s face. “How is she?”

 

The younger girl seems to be weighing her options, determining whether Baker is stable enough for the truth.

 

“Really,” Baker clarifies.

 

“She’s not great,” Joanie says. “She didn’t tell me what happened, not specifically anyway. But I know it’s not for good.”

 

“Joanie—”

 

“Baker, she loves you,” Joanie says. “You love her. No two people in the history of the world have ever loved each other as much as you do.”

 

Baker bites her lip, blinking furiously to stop her tears from falling in the middle of this public place, busier than ever thanks to exam season.

 

“If you need someone…”

 

“Thanks,” Baker says, giving Joanie the quickest hug she can manage.

 

“Maybe I’ll see you over break,” Joanie says, flinching slightly when she realizes she’s probably more likely to see her like this, randomly around campus, than she is to see her around the house.

 

“Yeah,” Baker agrees. “Maybe.”

 

_ iv. every minute and every hour _

 

In recent years, Baker has gathered with her friends on Christmas Eve for lunch and a gift exchange, followed by a more intimate gift exchange with Hannah. This year the group text never starts, probably because Baker is the one who usually initiates it.

 

Baker’s stomach conveniently starts hurting around 10:30, when she should be getting ready for midnight Mass, typically one of her favorite events of the holiday season.

 

Her mom doesn't even try, save for a half-hearted “are you sure, sweetheart?” Baker’s sure.

 

She spends the evening watching It’s a Wonderful Life and falls asleep on the couch with Charlie before they get home. She wakes up to shuffling and moving about as her parents try not to wake her, but they do. She hears them whisper about Mass, and she's sure she hears the word “Hannah” multiple times, but she stays frozen so they won't know she’s awake.

 

When they finally leave and go to bed, she looks at her phone to see a text from Hannah, from just after midnight. Maybe she couldn't go to Mass either. Maybe she couldn't bear the thought of seeing the girl whose heart she broke.

 

Or maybe she was just bored in the service.

 

“Merry Christmas, Baker,” it reads. “I know things haven't been the same, but I miss you a lot, so I hope I get to see you over break.”

 

The word “love” is conspicuously missing, and Baker isn't sure if she's grateful for that.

 

“Merry Christmas,” she replies after long deliberation. That'll show her.

 

_ v. put me in my place _

 

In the end, Baker doesn't really have the option to avoid Hannah all break, because with New Year’s Eve comes Ms. Carpenter’s wedding, and nothing would stop either one of them from going.

 

Hannah had helped Baker pick out her dress, a long yellow sheath that accentuates her shoulders and makes the brown in her eyes and skin even more pronounced than usual. Baker had argued at the time that yellow isn't really a winter color, but Hannah had insisted that if she didn't wear that dress she’d break up with her. They'd both laughed as Baker finally swiped her card at the boutique, but Baker doesn't find it quite as funny now.

 

Baker drives alone, passing up Wally’s offer to tag along with him and Clay, as well as Clay’s (relatively) new girlfriend, Bridget. On some level, she knows she may be in need of an escape route, though she's not sure why. She's not scared of Hannah, and it's not like she never wants to see her again—in fact, that's the worst outcome she can imagine—but the idea of being so close to her physically while feeling so distant otherwise jars her.

 

She game-plans exactly how she’ll go about it when she sees Hannah from across the room. She even practices her subdued smile in her car mirror and makes a mental list of seven small-talk topics, praying she won't need more than that. Maybe it'll be easier because everyone else will be there, too. It won't be just her and Hannah, forced to talk about real things.

 

Baker gives her name to the usher when she walks into the chapel, and he smiles widely, taking her arm and leading her to the pew where all her friends are seated. There's only one spot left, nearest the aisle and right next to Hannah Eaden.

 

Hannah smiles but shifts uncomfortably as if it's not Baker who's sitting next to her but a complete stranger. Her dress is long-sleeved and knee-length and the perfect navy to bring out her eyes, and her blonde hair is pulled up in a twist that Baker knows Joanie must have had something to do with.

 

“I love that dress,” Hannah says when Baker sits down. “I'm really glad you went with it.”

 

“Thanks,” Baker says, her heart racing as she practically hugs the edge of the pew so as to not even accidentally brush Hannah’s hand or leg. Baker can feel Hannah's eyes on her, like she's trying to figure out what to say or if she can say anything, but after a while she busies herself with the silver clutch she carries.

 

“Mint?” Hannah offers in a whisper as the ceremony begins.

 

Baker turns to her and raises her eyebrows, the unspoken question evident in her eyes, and Hannah smiles.

 

“I'm not saying you have bad breath,” Hannah answers, taking Baker’s hand and putting the mint in it.

 

It's a routine for them. Baker always brings the toiletries Hannah probably forgot (in fact, she’d be surprised if Hannah had a single in-case-of-emergency tampon in her clutch), and Hannah brings snacks and pens and usually a scrap of paper in case anyone is in dire need of a game of tic tac toe.

 

Hannah always resorts to mints or gum first when she's bored, and she would never dare put them back before offering some to Baker. Baker joked one time that she was always self-conscious that Hannah was suggesting something, and ever since, they haven't shared gum or mints or even toothpaste without the exact same exchange.

 

The ceremony is beautiful and touching and hopeful and absolutely heartbreaking for Baker to watch. Hannah leans in to ask for a tissue, which of course Baker has on hand, but the brunette only realizes after that she has been crying. She blots her eyes and curses herself silently when she pulls back the tissue and sees a streak of black mascara.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Hannah place the tissue on her lap without using it, and she realizes Hannah didn’t need a tissue at all. She’s always been strong enough for them both when Baker can’t pull her weight. Baker just wishes Hannah would have let her do the same.

 

As soon as the ceremony ends, Baker practically sprints to the bathroom to fix her makeup. The next stop is the reception, where there will be food and alcohol, so she knows everyone will be in a hurry, but she needs to collect herself first.

 

She takes a few deep breaths after she’s satisfied with her makeup, trying to get her emotions in check. When the doors opens, she straightens up and clears her throat, collecting her belongings and stashing them in her small purse, but when she looks up, she catches a glimpse of Hannah in the mirror.

 

“Hey,” Hannah says softly. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t following you.”

 

“It’s okay,” Baker says, but her trembling voice betrays her. She turns to face Hannah, who hasn’t made any move to enter a stall, though if she wasn’t following Baker, that’s presumably why she’s here.

 

“I made a mistake,” Hannah says. “What I said—what I did over Thanksgiving. I was just—”

 

“Can we not have this conversation in the ladies’ room?” Baker asks, acutely aware of their surroundings.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Hannah says. “Sorry.”

 

Baker smiles softly. “You’re always apologizing,” she says.

 

“Except when I really should be,” Hannah replies.

 

Baker shrugs. “There’s time for that.”

 

Baker waits in the last pew while Hannah uses the restroom. The whole church is already cleared out and cleaned up, and Baker finds herself picking at her cuticles, a terrible habit she thought she’d gotten rid of.

 

“Hey,” Hannah says. “Can I sit?”

 

Baker looks up, startled even though she’d been expecting Hannah’s arrival. “Yeah,” she says. “Do you need a ride to the reception?”

 

“I drove myself,” Hannah says.

 

“Escape route?”

 

“Is that why you didn’t come with Wally and Clay?”

 

“Don’t judge.”

 

“I’m not,” Hannah laughs. “I thought I was going to see you and pass out or something.”

 

Baker raises her eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

 

“Because I’ve been trying to figure out what I’d say to you the next time I saw you for the past five weeks,” Hannah confesses. “I didn’t want our conversation to end that way. And I knew I couldn’t convey that through text. I sat in your driveway for two hours.”

 

“You could have taken it back,” Baker whispers.

 

Hannah chews at the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t want to,” she says. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

 

“Why?” Baker asks, her eyes filling with tears. She wants to hear Hannah say she was an idiot and it’s the worst thing she’s ever done. She wants to hear Hannah say she was too prideful to take it back, that she has an evil twin, that some demon took over her brain and since then she’s found a great exorcist. “Why would breaking up with me be the right thing?”

 

“I didn’t mean for it to be a breakup,” Hannah says. “I swear. I was being unfair to you, and I knew it. I still know it. You came to visit and surprise me, and I spent the whole weekend cranky and studying.”

 

“That was my fault,” Baker whispers. “I should have checked. I didn’t even know you had an exam.”

 

“It was a quiz,” Hannah says. “I was prioritizing so many things over you, and you weren’t happy.”

 

“I didn’t like it,” Baker says. “But mostly because I knew how stressed you were. I wanted to take all that pressure away from you, and you wouldn’t let me help. We were so close to being done with the distance.” Her voice breaks at the end, and she knows she’s going to have to reapply her makeup yet again after this conversation.

 

“I was a bad girlfriend,” Hannah says. “Some—stupid, I know—part of me thought I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d understand putting things on hold.”

 

“Why didn’t we have this conversation then?” Baker asks. “We could have talked through it. You weren’t listening to me.”

 

“You left,” Hannah sighs.

 

“You sat outside of my house for two hours!”

 

“Bake—”

 

“Do you remember how hard it was for us to even get to this point?” Baker says. “The years of being scared? The mistakes we both made?” She doesn’t like thinking about the time she spent denying her feelings for Hannah, but she can’t believe Hannah would take it for granted like this. “Then, once we finally got it all figured out, we had to do it from 500 miles away. Which we did. We did it, Han. We beat all the odds. We made everyone who ever doubted us shut up, and we did that together.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So when did we stop fighting?” Baker asks, the tears streaming from her eyes. “When did you decide we were something you could just… give up on?”

 

“I never gave up,” Hannah says, her voice even. Baker knows it’s only because she’s measuring her tone in an attempt not to cry, but her lip quivers anyway. “I made a mistake. You’ve made mistakes that hurt me too. When you and Clay—”

 

“Don’t you dare,” Baker growls. “You  _ promised _ you would never use that against me.”

 

“I’m not!” Hannah insists, her hand coming to rest on Baker’s knee. “I would never do that. All I’m saying is we’ve hurt each other before. And we’ve survived.” She rubs her thumb over Baker’s knee reassuringly. “I was stressed and overwhelmed and I made a choice. It was the wrong one. I’m admitting that and asking you to please forgive me.”

 

Baker is quiet for a moment before finally looking Hannah in the eye. “How can you assure me that it’ll never happen again?”

 

“Because I love you.”

 

“You loved me on Thanksgiving,” Baker retorts.

 

“I failed an exam,” Hannah says.

 

“What?”

 

“I had a B in the class, and I ended up with a C overall, so I passed. But I failed the exam.”

 

“Hannah, why didn’t you—” Baker stops herself. Of course Hannah wouldn’t tell her that.

 

“I made the wrong call,” Hannah says. “I’m not me without you. I couldn’t focus on anything except for how upset you were the last time I saw you. I never wanted to hurt you like that. I’m sorry, Baker.”

 

Baker’s shoulders are shaking now as her body heaves with sobs. Hannah rubs her back, sniffling while holding back her own tears. Baker’s arms wrap around Hannah’s neck, holding on for dear life while Hannah whispers her apology over and over.

 

Finally, Baker pulls away, wiping her eyes, and leans in to press her lips to Hannah’s as hard as she can. Hannah can taste tears and lip gloss and makeup and the sweet, familiar, warm taste of Baker.

 

“I’ve missed that so much,” Baker murmurs, not opening her eyes as she rests her forehead against Hannah’s.

 

“Me too,” Hannah breathes. She takes Baker’s face in her hands and kisses her softly as if it might be the last time. “Please forgive me.”

 

“Never do that to me again,” Baker cries. “Please.”

 

“Never,” Hannah says, kissing Baker’s hands. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Baker says between deep, heaving breaths. “I don’t want to start this year without you.”

 

“Me neither,” Hannah says, wrapping her arms around Baker’s neck.

 

Baker pulls away, wiping her eyes and laughing at the streaks that come off on the backs of her hands. “I’m a mess.”

 

“You’re beautiful.”

 

“Is it over?” Baker asks. “Is this over?”

 

“I sure hope so,” Hannah says, her thumb brushing over Baker’s bottom lip.

 

“Please, Han,” Baker says. “Never make a decision like that without me ever again. If you’re stressed, I want to help. If you’re hurting, I want to make it better. Please, sweetheart. Let me in.”

 

“I will,” Hannah says. “It’s just us, right?”

 

Baker grins, wiping a final tear from her eye. “Just us.”

 

_ vi. miss you more _

 

Hannah and Baker walk hand-in-hand into the reception—late, much to Baker’s embarrassment, but they make it eventually. It’s being held on the rooftop of a gorgeous hotel, and now that the sun is down, there are twinkling lights illuminating the space. It’s chilly, but the space heaters warm Baker almost as much as the feeling of Hannah’s hand in her own.

 

Clay whoops when he sees them come in together, right before turning to Wally and Luke and demanding they hand over the $20 each they had bet on when they’d get back together.

 

“Sissy, you’re back!” Joanie exclaims, throwing her arms around Baker. 

 

“How much champagne have you had?” Baker teases.

 

“The boys didn’t want theirs, so…”

 

“You’re here!” Ms. Carpenter exclaims, wrapping an arm around them both from behind. “I saw you at the ceremony, but I couldn’t find you here, so I was worried one of you didn’t feel well.”

 

Hannah turns to hug her. “You look beautiful,” she says. “The wedding was perfect.”

 

“I’m so glad you were able to come,” she gushes, squeezing her tight before moving on to hug Baker.

 

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Baker assures her, winking at Hannah behind her back. It’s true, if Baker had a choice in the matter, she would have bailed to avoid Hannah, but she couldn’t miss Ms. Carpenter’s wedding—Baker isn’t sure if she’s taking her spouse’s last name, but she’ll always be Ms. Carpenter to Hannah and Baker, along with most of her students.

 

After dinner and cake, Hannah and Baker sway in each other’s arms to a slow song, Baker’s face buried in Hannah’s neck. Every now and then, Hannah whispers something to Baker that happened during their time apart, and Baker is torn between wanting to stay in this moment forever and wanting to get Hannah home and be alone to talk and laugh and make mac and cheese.

 

The most important thing for Baker to hear, though, is that Hannah loves her. And Baker loves her back.

 

They finally pull themselves apart when Ms. Carpenter and her new spouse step up to the microphone to speak.

 

“Thank you all so much for joining us tonight,” Ms. Carpenter says. “I’m sure you all had a dozen of New Year’s Eve party invitations, which makes it all the more special that you chose to spend it with us.” She pauses as everyone cheers. “That said, our send-off will be in a few minutes, but first, as this is a celebration of love, we want to count down together to the new year. Whether you’re here with the love of your life or friends and family you love a lot, please join us in…” She looks down at her phone, which apparently has a countdown, and she smiles with pleasant surprise at the fortuitous timing. “Nine! Eight!”

 

All the guests chime in with the countdown as Hannah’s arms wrap around Baker’s waist, her head pressed against Baker’s chest.

 

“Three! Two! One!” Everyone chants, culminating in a massive cheer that Baker can barely hear because Hannah’s lips are on hers and her heart is racing with adrenaline and pure love. As fireworks explode above them, Baker feels the spark in her heart—the one she hasn’t felt since the last time Hannah held her like this—reignite.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Hannah whispers against her lips.

 

“To go where?” Baker breathes, giddy with excitement.

 

“Anywhere,” Hannah says. “As long as I’m with you.”

 

It doesn’t take Baker long to figure out where they should go. After all, her parents and brother are out of town for the night, and it’s been too long.

  
They start the year like Baker hadn’t imagined would be possible when she woke up on New Year’s Eve: wrapped in each other’s arms, as close as two humans can possibly be, basking in the glow of a fire not even a fraction as warm as the one burning inside them.

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments are more than welcome and appreciated! Chat with me here or on my [Tumblr](kneatthanks.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](http://twitter.com/halesnstuff) :)


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